


Featherlight

by highflyer101



Series: The Lives We Might Have Led [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dothraki, Essos, F/M, Gen, Horseback Riding, Pentos, Police, Poverty, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2017-12-10 12:03:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/785849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highflyer101/pseuds/highflyer101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dany loved summer. She loved biking away from her vicious brother and planning her escape. She loved the taste of ice cream on her tongue after a long day. She loved the way her skin tanned and her hair paled under the sun. </p>
<p>She loved Drogo and his horses, too. </p>
<p>(In which Drogo teaches Dany to ride, and she learns some other stuff along the way.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Featherlight

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I usually don't love Drogo and Dany together, but this idea came to me and I couldn't help writing it. Hopefully it came out as I wanted it to and is actually good. Please comment and let me know!

Dany decided she liked heat. She liked the taste of ice cream on her tongue after a particularly long day. She liked the way her skin tanned and her hair paled under the summer sun. She liked seeing kids spritz each other with water guns and play tag in the meadows of slowly yellowing grass.

It was good she liked it, too - you kind of had to, living in Pentos. It was perpetually hot there; so hot that Viserys agreed to put some money aside for an air conditioner. That was one of those times when Dany thought her brother might actually be good if someone gave him a chance, and that he was telling the truth when he said he didn't mean to hit her. Of course, the moment had come and gone, as all the others did, and Dany was left disillusioned and bloodied in the corner of her bedroom.

"I am a dragon," he would always say as he left her room. "And dragons can't help being angry."

She wanted desperately to tell him that that didn't even make sense, that dragons were brave, that dragons took what they needed no matter what sacrifices they had to make, that dragons were beautiful and smart and all the things he never would be. But she didn't dare to say it to his face. Instead, she would wait until he fell asleep and tiptoe into the bathroom. She would tend to her wounds and swallow two Advil and try to sleep off the pain. In the morning, she got on her bike before he woke up and rode as far away as she could, secretly pretending that she was escaping for good.

She was on her bike when she saw him. There was an old, worn down horse about two miles from her little shack, and he was galloping on a dark red stallion. She wanted to stop and watch, but everything in her screamed to keep going, so she settled for slowing down. There was something oddly fascinating about him and the way he seemed to share a mind with the horse. His body rolled with each stride and for a second she felt a strange pulling sensation in her gut. Then he saw her and he came to a halt at the edge of the property.

"Hello," he greeted, his voice thick with an accent she couldn't quite place. She smiled timidly and inclined her head, not trusting herself to take a hand off the handlebars and wave. "You like horse?" he asked, but she was already pedaling as fast as her legs would let her, headed towards a house that wasn't quite home.

Because even if the house frightened her, his eyes and arms and the strange but comforting lilt in his voice were far more terrifying.

* * *

Viserys' temper shortened as the days lengthened. Maybe it had something to do with Robert Baratheon being reelected Prime Minister, or the fact that no one was hiring. Personally, Dany suspected he was simply mad, just like their father. Insanity was a Targaryen family trait - one that she prayed she didn't share.

She spent even more time on her bike, hoping to distract herself. It was helpful to have something to focus on; when she was concentrating on the pavement under her wheels and the wind in her hair, she couldn't think about the beating that was sure to come when she got back. And when she did allow her mind to wander, she found herself wondering about the man on the horse that one day. She wondered what he would say if she'd stopped to chat with him, or whether he would be kind. She crafted a story for him in her mind, filling in the endless list of details she didn't know about him.

Subconsciously, she would take the route past the barn and hope for another glimpse of him. She felt foolish, like some little girl with a crush. She hadn't even said spoken to the man and she was already enraptured. In movies, affairs that started like this always ended badly.

Nevertheless, she swore to herself that she would say something the next time she saw him.

* * *

She didn't know how long it had been since he asked her if she liked horses. She didn't know if he'd remember her, or if he'd recognize her with a swelling eye and split lip. But that didn't matter at the moment. Her life was suffocating her, and she simply needed to know that not everyone was trapped. There were people out there who were as free as the wind, and one day, she could be too.

Her heart leapt when she saw him. He was riding a different horse than before, and she wondered if the old one was dead or if he was merely altering his routine. She dropped her bike on the side of the road, her former fears gone. Without thinking about it, she inched up to the fence, entranced by the motion of the horse.

"Hello," he said for the second time. She forced herself to meet his coal black eyes. "You like horse?" Her eyes widened. It was as if the gods were giving her a perfect do-over. She nodded.

"Yes," she told him. "I like the horse very much."

"You ride?"

"No. But I'd like to."

"I teach you." It was awfully forward of him. They'd only just met (officially, at least), and he was suggesting something that would doubtlessly be rather long term. Dany knew she should tell him that she couldn't afford it, or that she had other things to do, but she was determined not to live the rest of her days like she had been: always wondering, hoping, wishing. She would figure this out once and for all, and perhaps then her heart would be more at ease.

(She should have known her heart would only flutter more intensely every time they spoke.)

* * *

The first day was horrible. Drogo - _Drogo, that was his name, Drogo like dragon -_ made her work harder than she was capable of, challenged her beyond her abilities. Her legs ached by the time she fell off Silver, the sweet, aging mare. Her platinum hair was tangled and dirt flecked her face, making it so that she could hardly recognize herself. And she loved every moment of it.

He didn't seem to notice the bruises on her cheek, or at least he didn't mention them, and for that she was thankful. This was supposed to be an escape from all that. She didn't want to be reminded of it every time she saw him. She only wanted to be reminded of the fact that she was getting better, that she was so much stronger than before, and that one day she might even be as good as him.

He never asked for payment, but guilt gnawed at her conscious when she gave him nothing. Viserys certainly wouldn't fund the activity, she was sure of that, so she began making little contributions to show her gratitude. She cleaned stalls and polished saddles and tried her best to be helpful. One day, she brought an old English book from elementary school and gave it to Drogo.

"You teach me, I teach you," she offered, and he merely nodded. She smiled triumphantly, but as she was walking away he grabbed her arm.

"My friends, too?" he requested. "Please?"

She agreed because although she was getting strong, she was not yet strong enough to say 'no'.

* * *

His friends were nice. There were more than she anticipated, but she told herself she was doing the right thing by helping them. So she ignored the fact that she couldn't quite keep all their names straight and concentrated on what she knew: Drogo was gentle and kind and he deserved to have someone care about him. Part of her wondered if anyone ever felt that way about her.

The few people she talked to outside of their little lessons were wonderful. Two girls, Irri and Doreah, became her first true friends on earth, and she thanked whatever God was out there that she met them. Irri was motherly; she introduced Dany to everyone who worked at the barn and encouraged her to stick with riding. She clucked her tongue whenever anyone fell and tended to their cuts and scrapes. Doreah, meanwhile, was a force of nature. She flirted with boys and sometimes even with girls, and when she was around her, Dany felt bold and beautiful. When she was with both of them, Dany finally understood what people meant when they talked about belonging somewhere.

"He likes you, you know," Doreah smirked one day as the rest of the group filed out of the tack room. Dany furrowed her brow.

"Who?"

 _"Drogo,"_ she purred. Irri narrowed her eyes.

"Hush," she warned. "Dany doesn't need love." Doreah shrugged and (somewhat surprisingly) dropped the subject, but Dany couldn't stop her mind from racing.

Maybe she didn't need love, but was it so wrong to want it?

* * *

"Lighter," Drogo urged. "Stand in the saddle."

Dany growled under her breath. Her bones were begging her to dismount, but Drogo seemed oblivious to her pain. He kept barking orders at her, tweaking her position. Apparently she landed too harshly on Silver's back, and she would never really be able to ride until she sat as softly as a feather. She forced herself to lean forward and clasp her lower legs around the horse's belly.

"Off the saddle!" he commanded from behind her. "Faster, faster, faster!"

A whimper bubbled in her throat, her breath coming in short pants. She wasn't meant for this. She wasn't strong enough or good enough to accomplish the impossible goals that had been set for her. She wanted to go home and spend her afternoon sipping green tea on the couch, not repeatedly trying to please Drogo. Pathetically, she allowed Silver to slow to a bumpy trot. Subconsciously, she anticipated Drogo's scolding. He just wanted her to be better, she knew that, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"Daenerys," he called. "Stop." She obliged and waited as he walked over to her. "You are tough," he told her. "You can do this. Ride Silver like you are riding the wind. Be light."

She forced herself to nod. Slowly, she dug her heels into Silver's sides and pushed her weight down. _Like the wind,_ his voice whispered in her mind. Ignoring the growing ache in her legs, she hovered just above the pommel of the saddle.

Silver's hooves beat the ground like whips and the trees around them blurred into one big green blob. Dany could hear Drogo laughing behind her, and the sound only spurred her forward. She wasn't sure if she was still on the horse or if they were flying. The warm feeling of freedom filled her bones, erasing her former discomfort, and she prayed the sensation would never die. On the horse, Viserys could never touch her. On the horse, she was more than little Dany without a backbone - she was Daenerys, a fearless and willful woman.

 _"That_ was light!" Drogo exclaimed when she finally dropped onto the ground.

The kiss she planted on his lips was even lighter.

* * *

Drogo never said anything, but Daenerys could feel that their relationship had changed. They were no longer just colleagues, or even friends. They were together, in every sense of the word, and it felt lovely.

The others noticed, too. Doreah smiled knowingly at them and Irri sent them sly glances. Drogo's friends treated Daenerys with a certain degree of respect and she began to feel more at home at the barn than anywhere else. Like all summer romances, it was perfect. But then everything unraveled.

It started simply. Daenerys untacked Silver and kissed Drogo good night and biked back. As usual, Viserys was blindingly furious when she got home. She mentally prepared herself for the feeling of his fists on her stomach, but then he did something completely unexpected. Something that was even worse than a beating.

He looked her in the eyes and told her he loved her. Then he kissed her. Then he was pinning her down and she was too weak to stop him.

The next morning, she rode to the barn with tears in her eyes. She stumbled into the tack room, trying to swallow back the sobs, but then Drogo was there, holding her, and she broke down.

"Who?" he demanded gruffly, not even asking what had happened.

"My brother," she murmured into his chest.

"I will kill him."

"No," she protested. She placed a gentle hand on his bearded cheek. "Then they'll take you away."

"Then I will maim him," he amended. Despite herself, she laughed.

* * *

Irri and Doreah offered to let her sleep at their little flat that night. Daenerys suspected Drogo had asked them to, but she accepted the invitation nonetheless. Anything was better than going home to Viserys.

They lent her clothes after she got out of the shower, and took turns brushing her pale white hair, all the while singing songs about heroic deeds in far away places. They tucked her into bed like a child and she wrapped herself in the blankets like a caterpillar in a cocoon. The two women sat with her as she drifted in and out of sleep, only speaking once.

"Daenerys," Irri whispered, shaking her shoulder. "Look at the news!"

They watched the police arrest Viserys Targaryen in silence.

* * *

The trial didn't take as long as Daenerys thought it would. There was an overwhelming amount of evidence against her brother, far too much for him to deny. He was put in jail in practically no time, and for that, she was thankful. She didn't want to see the betrayal on his face everyday in court. He was the lowest scum on the face of the earth, but he was still her brother.

The day after the sentencing, she sat alone in Silver's stall. She wondered if Viserys would think about her as he rotted in his cell, if he would regret all that he had done wrong. It would have been logical to hate him after everything, but she didn't think she did. She despised what he did to her, yes, and she couldn't stand who he'd become. But he made her more sad than anything.

She was sad because he could have been something great, but he ended up being the opposite. She was sad because she still remembered how tender he was when they were young. She was sad because she once knew a little boy with blond curls that protected her from nightmares. She was sad because that boy was gone, and in his place, there was a cowardly, pathetic excuse for a man.

But she would be lying if she said she wasn't happy, too. She had Drogo and Silver and Irri and Doreah. She didn't have to watch her every step or cower at the sound of footsteps anymore. There was a fire in her that could not be put out, and that same fire warmed her heart when she was cold. Its flames burned away the burdens she used to carry, and the weight of the world was relieved from her shoulders. 

She was no longer heavy as a ton of bricks. From this point forward, she was as light as a pile of feathers.


End file.
